


We Will Meet In The Next Life

by Michevalier



Series: Rest in Peace, Sweet Flower [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I guess reading The Last Sentiment is necessary, M/M, Respectfulshipping, Revspec, hi I decided to write a small sequel to The Last Sentiment, surprise huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 19:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18350276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michevalier/pseuds/Michevalier
Summary: And Ryoken's wrist had no mercy on him as it displayed in calligraphic letters "You will meet in the next life".





	We Will Meet In The Next Life

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate!AU where instead of the destined one's name a person's wrist displays the time after which the soulmates will meet

Ryoken stood on the balcony and admired forest, breathing in some cool air. The wind, playing with the man's hair, flew a little under the collar of his black shirt, causing a herd of uncontrollable goosebumps run down his spine. The trees turned crimson as if a whole bucketful of bloody paint had been poured on them.

Ryoken's soulmate loved autumn. He loved these beautiful colors of autumn in its very zenith when leaves were not yet completely fallen, but still lied on the ground akin to colorful paint stains. And Spectre loved to draw. He could draw anything: landscapes of their favourite forest at any time of a year, their kitchen, any person, animal or anything else. But most of all Spectre loved drawing Ryoken. He was fond of drawing these expressive blue eyes that were akin to jewels on his master's, his lover's divine face, he loved to paint his amazingly soft hair, so perfectly white as if the moon itself blessed it with its shine. Spectre adored these damn perfect body proportions when Ryoken walked around their shared apartment without a T-shirt, Spectre loved to draw these impossibly long legs dressed in black jeans. And those seductive curves. Damn, Ryoken's strong and slender yet perfectly curvy body was simply a piece of art in his eyes. Spectre could draw Ryoken alone for hours. He had almost an entire studio littered with portraits of his dear master in different variations: when he slept, when he worked or when he just gazed into the sky.

And Ryoken liked to hug Spectre around his waist when they were sleeping, sneaking peeks at his wrist, where five zeroes were clearly displayed. Young Kogami beamed, realizing that his soulmate, his fate was there with him. He liked to kiss Spectre on his neck in the morning and look at this lovely, sleepy and disheveled misunderstanding that fixed the slipping strap of his night T-shirt every once in a while and also smiled sleepily when his beloved master kissed his shoulder and whispered “good morning”. Ryoken liked to watch his soulmate when he was making breakfast, too. Spectre's favourite morning outfit consisted of inappropriately tiny shorts and a night T-shirt. Ryoken's, by the way. It's not like Spectre didn't have his own wardrobe, he just loved to "borrow" his beloved sir's clothes. Perhaps it was just a bit annoying, and yet Ryoken was happy nevertheless. For real.

But then Spectre was gone. SOL that was devoid of humanity even more than any AI took him away forever, treated him like some garbage in his last moments.

Unable to face this reality, Ryoken was trying to pretend that Spectre just went out somewhere for a little and constantly wrote messages to him. Every day. These were his usual messages. Something like: “Hi, love", “Good morning, Spectre,” “How are you?”. He studied and worked a lot just to spend less time at home where everything reminded him of Spectre. Ryoken even bought a separate apartment and spent nights in it. And sobbed every single one of them. He would cover his face with a pillow and start screaming as if he was being cut. He would cry till his voice was hoarse by early morning. And yet it didn't hurt as much as his soul, that fresh wound which burned his aching heart non-stop.

Ryoken did not attend Spectre's funeral on that day. And the next day he did not come either. And the next. He showed up at the cemetery only about two weeks later. He was wearing that ghastly black mourning outfit, such a horrendous contrast to the gorgeous bouquet of his lover's favourite white lillies. "Spectre" was displayed in calligraphic letters on the white marble stone. Hanoi's second-in-command had always wished to reject the name given him by orphanage even in death. Yes, that was Spectre's bizarre sense of humour. Ryoken just fell to his knees in front of the grave and began to cry silently.

And even after visiting his soulmate's grave Ryoken kept on writing messages to him. When another Spectre's birthday came around Ryoken wrote: “Hello. Happy birthday, Sweet Flower. Three years have passed. And I still cannot believe that you are not here anymore. You know, I might be going crazy as almost every blond passerby reminds me of you."

The fated numbers on Ryoken's wrist did not move. They seemed frozen in place. Just like young Kogami's life. But then, during another tormenting insomnia episode, Ryoken decided to check his wrist out of the purest blue. And for the first time his paralyzed heart skipped a beat. Surprise. The numbers on his wrist began to transform into some other shape. Ryoken blinked and turned on the light. Was he seeing things? He looked again. No, it was real.

Ryoken was able to properly decipher these words about a week later. And he smashed his hands against the wall till they bled, shouting that he hated his life. Young Kogami looked at his wrist again, grimacing in disgust at his own worthlessness.

" _You will meet in the next life_ ," was written there almost mockingly.


End file.
